[stylist] A deafblind girl (chapter 1)
Barbara Hammel
poetlori8 at msn.com
Sat Sep 5 20:09:41 UTC 2009
Yeah, I'd call it a fur coat. It's easier to comprehend what you mean, and
it's fewer words.
Barbara
If wisdom's ways you wisely seek, five things observe with care: of whom
you speak, to whom you speak, and how and when and where.
--------------------------------------------------
From: "helene ryles" <dreamavdb at googlemail.com>
Sent: Saturday, September 05, 2009 2:56 PM
To: "Writer's Division Mailing List" <stylist at nfbnet.org>
Subject: Re: [stylist] A deafblind girl (chapter 1)
> Hi Shelley, Thanks very much for correcting all that. I'm glad
> youliked it. By trimmings I meant the collar was fur, but decided to
> change fur trimmings to a long fur coat. Is that any better?
>
> I'll send you chapter two in another email. I notice this is being
> done in the group so I'll send chapter 2 to the group as well. Is that
> ok with everyone?
>
> Helene
>
> On 05/09/2009, Shelley J. Alongi <qobells at roadrunner.com> wrote:
>> HI Helene, Here are the suggestions in the chapter I promised I'd send
>> you.
>> Hope to see more work. Shelley
>>
>> Chapter 1:
>> A testimony by Fiona the fader (8th June, 1997)
>>
>> It’s not every day you witness a mother attempt to murder her child in
>> a public place. So naturally the police assumed I was making the whole
>> scene up, but I will stick to what I saw. I'll swear to it in court if
>> only someone would take my word seriously.
>> My working companion and I were selling flying carpet rides beside
>> Stilosarka underground railway station, when the attempted murder took
>> place.
>> “Come on folks! Ten dren for a ride on our magical flying
>> carpet!” my companion shouted as various people passed us. I’m a very
>> quiet gal, so I let my companion do all the shouting, and I just
>> operate the carpet.
>> Our enterprise had gotten off to a flying start when I spotted
>> an undersized,
>> malnourished child. She was wearing thick glasses that greatly
>> magnified her frightened eyes. She was grey-skinned like us, and
>> dressed in boy’s clothes, but I later learnt she was a girl called
>> Nadia Murat.
>> Despite her tiny size I could tell she was much older then she
>> looked. It made me wonder if she was one of us.
>> Nadia was being dragged along by a gaudy hard-faced woman, wearing fur
>> trimmings. (Not sure about the fir trimmings maybe describe them to the
>> reader.)
>> "Want a ride? It normally costs 10 dren but I can reduce it to 5
>> dren for you" I told Nadia in sign language. I figured she was deaf
>> as I had spotted her cochlear implant. I was quite keen to practice
>> my signing skills with her.
>> "My son doesn't sign!" Nadia’s mother told me tartly.
>> "Yes I do," the child contradicted in sign language. She gave a
>> yelp
>> of pain as her mother pinched her. The woman yanked her away from us as
>> if
>> we had some sort of contagious disease.
>> I bristled. (Nice word bristled; I haven't seen it in a while.) Who did
>> this
>> woman think she was? I am a mother too, and
>> I can manage my brood without hurting them in the process. I don’t
>> hold with that sort of thing.
>> "Be quiet. Witches like that have absolutely no dignity. Look how
>> dirty they are. They aren't even wearing shoes!” I overheard the woman
>> say, as the child was dragged off to the side of a sheer drop into the
>> underground station below.
>> "We don't need that thing today. Today you are going to jump."
>> The woman announced. She was referring to a long greasy pole that
>> some people used for sliding down into the station below.
>> I had been about to let on my next group of passengers but I
>> indicated
>> that they should wait. I had a shrewd suspicion I would be needed for
>> other things. I watched Nadia and the woman closely just to see what
>> would happen next.
>> "What!" Nadia cried.
>> "You heard what I said. I'm sick to death of you and your pathetic
>> little ways. Your father and I are both witches so you must have
>> inherited our witchcraft too. So come along now. We're late"
>> I witnessed the wicked witch cast a concealment charm. It stops
>> most people from noticing anything suspicious. I’m very
>> familiar with that particular spell as I use it quite frequently
>> myself and so do my kids. As a result I’ve grown quite immune to the
>> affect.
>> I saw the woman discreetly shove Nadia over the sheer drop, into
>> the station below.
>> Nadia gave an ear-piercing scream as her body hurtled towards the
>> ground. She was definitely not floating in the way that witches
>> normally do. I dived over the side of the drop myself. Grabbing
>> Nadia's shirt, I slid an arm around her waist as
>> she floated downwards at a less scary rate. Despite the rapid
>> deceleration the child gave a cry of pain as her body hit the ground.
>> "I'd use the pole in future, if I were you. You are obviously not a
>> witch," I advised on landing. I was trying to lighten things up a bit,
>> but by the stunned look on her face I don’t think she had taken in
>> what I had said at all. She stared in horror at the remains of
>> her cochlear implant which was now smashed on the platform near her
>> feet.
>> “I’ve already told you that he doesn’t use sign language. Be off
>> and mind your own business before I call the police.”
>> “I make it my business when people try to murder their children.”
>> I retorted. This woman had a right nerve. I felt it should be me who
>> was threatening her with the police after what I had just witnessed.
>> Just then a pale-skin police woman, with long ginger hair,
>> grabbed my upper arm. She wore the dark red uniform of the Darthrilan
>> police force.
>> I started. I'd been so intent on saving the child, then arguing with
>> the mother that I
>> hadn’t even noticed the police appear on the scene.
>> “It’s her you should be arresting not me!” I told her pointing to
>> where the woman and child had been. They were no longer there. The
>> woman had literally yanked the child off her feet and ran. They boarded a
>> train that had just pulled into the station.
>> “Never you mind. We want to know where your trading licence is.”
>> The police
>> woman replied tartly.
>> “But I do mind very much. Aren’t police officers supposed to do
>> something when parents start murdering their kids in public places?”
>> “That’s enough; we don’t have time to listen to your stories today.
>> We want to know where your licence is.”
>> The police are obviously discriminating against me because I'm only
>> three foot seven inches high and a fader (meaning I can vanish at
>> will), but I'll admit fading is a notoriously unstable branch of
>> magic.
>> I feel ever so worried about that girl. I am determined to find
>> out more about her, and offer her my protection. I'm certainly not
>> going to let the matter rest until I see justice done.
>> (I changed a few sentneces from the passive voice to the active voice and
>> changed the sentence "I was determined" to "I am determined" to match the
>> tense used in the sentence before it which says "I feel eve so worried
>> about
>> that girl." Just watch the past verses the present tense. The story moves
>> along well; nice work.
>> _______________________________________________
>> Writers Division web site:
>> http://www.nfb-writers-division.org
>> <http://www.nfb-writers-division.org/>
>>
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>> Shelley J. Alongi
>> Home Office: (714)869-3207
>> **
>> NFBWD "Slate and Style" editor
>> http://www.nfb-writers-division.org
>>
>> **
>> To read essays on my journey through the Chatsworth train accident,
>> Metrolink 111 or other interests click on
>> http://www.storymania.com/cgibin/sm2/smshowauthorbox.cgi?page=&author=AlongiSJ&alpha=A
>>
>> updated July 2, 2009
>> ----- Original Message -----
>> From: "helene ryles" <dreamavdb at googlemail.com>
>> To: "A private list for authors" <DB-AUTHORS at tr.wou.edu>;
>> <axevegans at yahoo.co.uk>; "bookel" <bookel1 at gmail.com>; "Christina
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>> "Writer's Division Mailing List" <stylist at nfbnet.org>
>> Sent: Thursday, September 03, 2009 9:09 PM
>> Subject: [stylist] A deafblind girl (chapter 1)
>>
>>
>> Chapter 1:
>> A testimony by Fiona the fader (8th June, 1997)
>>
>> It’s not every day you witness a mother attempt to murder her child in
>> a public place. So naturally the police assumed I was making the whole
>> scene up, but I will stick to what I saw. I'll swear to it in court if
>> only someone would take my word seriously enough.
>> My working companion and I were selling flying carpet rides beside
>> Stilosarka underground railway station, when the attempted murder took
>> place.
>> “Come on folks! Ten dren for a ride on our magical flying
>> carpet!” my companion shouted as various people passed us. I’m a very
>> quiet gal, so I let my companion do all the shouting, and I just
>> operate the carpet.
>> Our enterprise had gone off to a flying start when I spotted
>> an undersized,
>> malnourished child. She was wearing thick glasses that greatly
>> magnified her frightened eyes. She was grey-skinned like us, and
>> dressed in boy’s clothes, but I later learnt she was a girl called
>> Nadia Murat.
>> Despite her tiny size I could tell she was much older then she
>> looked. It made me wonder if she was one of us.
>> Nadia was being dragged along by a gaudy hard-faced woman, wearing fur
>> trimmings.
>> "Want a ride? It normally costs 10 dren but I can reduce it to 5
>> dren for you" I told Nadia in sign language. I figured she was deaf
>> as I had spotted her cochlear implant. I was quite keen to practice
>> my signing skills with her.
>> "My son doesn't sign!" Nadia’s mother told me tartly.
>> "Yes I do," the child contradicted in sign language. She gave a
>> yelp
>> of pain as her mother pinched her. The woman yanked her away from us as
>> if
>> we had some sort of contagious disease.
>> I bristled. Who did this woman think she was? I am a mother too, and
>> I can manage my brood without hurting them in the process. I don’t
>> hold with that sort of thing.
>> "Be quiet. Witches like that have absolutely no dignity. Look how
>> dirty they are. They aren't even wearing shoes!” I overheard the woman
>> say, as the child was dragged off to the side of a sheer drop into the
>> underground station below.
>> "We don't need that thing today. Today you are going to jump."
>> The woman announced. She was referring to a long greasy pole that
>> some people used for sliding down into the station below.
>> I had been about to let on my next group of passengers but I
>> indicated
>> that they should wait. I had a shrewd suspicion I would be needed for
>> other things. I watched Nadia and the woman closely just to see what
>> would happen next.
>> "What!" Nadia cried.
>> "You heard what I said. I'm sick to death of you and your pathetic
>> little ways. Your father and I are both witches so you must have
>> inherited our witchcraft too. So come along now. We're late"
>> I witnessed the wicked witch cast a concealment charm. It stops
>> most people from noticing anything suspicious. I’m very
>> familiar with that particular spell as I use it quite frequently
>> myself and so do my kids. As a result I’ve grown quite immune to the
>> affect.
>> I saw the woman discreetly shove Nadia over the sheer drop, into
>> the station below.
>> Nadia gave an ear-piercing scream as her body hurtled towards the
>> ground. She was definitely not floating in the way that witches
>> normally do. I dived over the side of the drop myself. Grabbing
>> Nadia's shirt, I slid an arm around her waist as
>> she floated downwards at a less scary rate. Despite the rapid
>> deceleration the child gave a cry of pain as her body hit the ground.
>> "I'd use the pole in future, if I were you. You are obviously not a
>> witch," I advised on landing. I was trying to lighten things up a bit,
>> but by the stunned look on her face I don’t think she had taken in
>> what I had said at all. She was staring in horror at the remains of
>> her cochlear implant which was now smashed on the platform near her
>> feet.
>> “I’ve already told you that he doesn’t use sign language. Be off
>> and mind your own business before I call the police.”
>> “I make it my business when people try to murder their children.”
>> I retorted. This woman had a right nerve. I felt it should be me who
>> was threatening her with the police after what I had just witnessed.
>> Just then a pale-skin police woman, with long ginger hair,
>> grabbed my upper arm. She wore the dark red uniform of the Darthrilan
>> police force.
>> I started. I'd been so intent on saving the child, then arguing with
>> the mother that I
>> hadn’t even noticed the police appear on the scene.
>> “It’s her you should be arresting not me!” I told her pointing to
>> where the woman and child had been. They were no longer there. The
>> woman had literally yanked the child off her feet and ran. I saw them
>> boarding a train that had just pulled into the station.
>> “Never you mind. We want to know where your trading licence is.”
>> The police
>> woman replied tartly.
>> “But I do mind very much. Aren’t police officers supposed to do
>> something when parents start murdering their kids in public places?”
>> “That’s enough; we don’t have time to listen to your stories today.
>> We want to know where your licence is.”
>> The police are obviously discriminating against me because I'm only
>> three foot seven inches high and a fader (meaning I can vanish at
>> will), but I'll admit fading is a notoriously unstable branch of
>> magic.
>> I feel ever so worried about that girl. I was determined to find
>> out more about her, and offer her my protection. I'm certainly not
>> going to let the matter rest until I see justice done.
>>
>> _______________________________________________
>> Writers Division web site:
>> http://www.nfb-writers-division.org
>> <http://www.nfb-writers-division.org/>
>>
>> stylist mailing list
>> stylist at nfbnet.org
>> http://www.nfbnet.org/mailman/listinfo/stylist_nfbnet.org
>> To unsubscribe, change your list options or get your account info for
>> stylist:
>> http://www.nfbnet.org/mailman/options/stylist_nfbnet.org/qobells%40roadrunner.com
>>
>>
>> _______________________________________________
>> Writers Division web site:
>> http://www.nfb-writers-division.org
>> <http://www.nfb-writers-division.org/>
>>
>> stylist mailing list
>> stylist at nfbnet.org
>> http://www.nfbnet.org/mailman/listinfo/stylist_nfbnet.org
>> To unsubscribe, change your list options or get your account info for
>> stylist:
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>>
>
> _______________________________________________
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> http://www.nfb-writers-division.org <http://www.nfb-writers-division.org/>
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